Favor Returned
by Auburn Red
Summary: It's 1981. Peggy Olson never thought she would be in London again reuniting with Del Boy Trotter or facing some tough decisions about her past.
1. Chapter 1

Favor Returned

By Auburn Red

An Only Fools & Horses/Mad Men Cross-Over

None of these characters belong to me. The crew of Mad Men belong to Matthew Weiner and the gang from Only Fools and Horses to John Sullivan. This is for entertainment and with many of my previous fics including Tit for Tat, Chapter titles are lines or titles from songs. For example the first chapter is a line from The Buggles' "Video Killed the Radio Star". There will also be references to real people and events. In many cases they either belong to themselves or are amalgams of real people.

The setting is 1981, nearly 15 years from the setting of the most recent season of Mad Men and just before the first season of Only Fools and is a sequel to my previous OFAH/Mad Men Cross-Over "Tit for Tat."Very important for readers to know that this story exists in the AU timeline suggested by Tit for Tat (so OFAH fans take note if you haven't read it: Freddie Robdal died a lot later than was said in the series) It would probably enhance your understanding of this one to read it, but things do get explained in this story, so it's not necessary. Since "Tit for Tat" was predominately an Only Fools story, this story is predominately a Mad Men story to make up for it.

Chapter One: We Can't Rewind, We've Gone Too Far

Early July 1981-  
>Life doesn't move forward or backward. Sometimes it just runs in circles. Peggy Olson, Creative Director of Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce realized that as she was driving the rental car through London. She drove through London moving along with the traffic. She thought that she had turned right towards the office where she was supposed to meet her clients, instead she turned left. She cursed the roundabout for causing her to go in that endless loop, then getting her lost on the wrong road. She continued to drive with the traffic. At least she didn't drive on the wrong side as she saw other Americans do.<p>

It figures that she would have this problem returning to London after 14 years from her last trip. It figures that being back here would remind her of the last time that she had been there and of course it figured that recalling that would bring to mind everything else that had been going on particularly her uncomfortable conversation with Pete at Don Draper's funeral reception.

She remembered the reception. Don Draper had kept his sense of humor to the end, taking pride in the fact that he outlived all of the original founders. It wasn't a slow death, Peggy took at least a small amount of comfort in that. It wasn't a long painful illness the way Roger Sterling had, dying after many heart surgeries later. He had just slipped away quietly after work with no announcements and no foreshadowing beforehand. Everyone was at the funeral, of course Pete and Peggy were there, the current faces of SCDP. They had long taken over Roger and Don's roles as accounting and creative directors respectively but they both felt as much as they had carved their own niche, they still felt haunted by the shadows that had been left behind. Harry Crane was there. He had long left the advertising world to work in the programming department at NBC, but still kept in touch with his old friends at SCDP (whenever NBC needed advertising, they were the first).In fact, he was a liasion/go-between for this current assignment.

Joan Harris had arrived, a long-time war widow still going strong in her early 50's with a long string of boyfriends and a still youthful appearance (owing a lot to Clairol and Botox but who didn't?) as saucy as ever and maintaining control over the funeral arrangements. Sal Romano and Ken Cosgrove were there, even though they had long moved to the West Coast after Ken's tour of duty had ended with a bullet in his spine. They had both come through rough times with Sal being for the first time open about his sexuality and Ken coming to terms with his own sexuality and suffering through the occasional Vietnam ghost. No wonder they had moved away, just to get away from it all but they were stronger than ever. Of course Sal never held grudges after being dismissed from SCDP. He was even a pallbearer at Don's funeral.

Of course many others were there, Paul, Smitty, Kurt, Danny, Stan, Lois,Megan, Hildy, Allison, so many others. Some had remained in the fields creativity and advertising in one way or another; some had left to begin families of their own or moved on to other opportunities. Even Betty Francis had arrived, still as gorgeous as ever like a fading prima donna still aware of her appearance. She had arrived with three tall young people that Peggy knew to be Sally, Bobby, and Eugene Draper. She could see their mother and father in them. It amazed her as though she could hear the voices and recognize the mannerisms of people that she knew they were inside bodies that no longer looked familiar. Peggy wondered how much she had changed over the years to them.

Her hair had grayed very little, hidden by the brown strands that were now cut in a feathered style. She remembered meeting Pete, his hair very gray but very distinguished and kissing him on the cheek at the reception. It amazed her how they had evolved to a deep friendship and a trustful working relationship. They balanced each other out with Peggy's creativity merged with Pete's talent for business. The two made SCDP, a force to be reckoned with. As for the rumors well let tongues wag, the two were long past caring about that. The two drank martinis as Peggy began. "How's Trudy doing?" she asked.

Pete sighed. "Doing better, but still the chemo's been rough." Peggy touched her colleague's shoulder in sympathy. Trudy had been diagnosed a couple of years ago and though the breast cancer was currently in remission, she still had the after effects. Pete had been a wonderful husband throughout devoting as much time as he could to her and the kids. It was ironic in a way that when divorce wasn't common, Don and Roger and the others had multiple affairs and unhappy marriages; Now though Pete and Trudy had their troubles (even going through a brief separation in the early 70's) and divorce had become a nonissue, they were extremely happy together. Perhaps they were both aware of what they could lose that's why they were more than ever determined to make it work.

They continued to drink in silence. "You know Chris called me again?" Pete asked referring to the boy that was not officially in their lives, but still an omnipresent ghost.

"I know he called me too, actually before he called you," Peggy said.

"So why did you refer him to me?" Pete asked.  
>"Well, I said what most women would in that situation, 'ask your father,'" Peggy quipped. Pete's mouth dropped open, but closed upon seeing Peggy's smile. Then the two laughed and toasted each other. "How did he even find us? Adoptions are supposed to be closed aren't they?"<p>

Pete shrugged. "Who knows private detectives word of mouth," he suggested. "It's not like there's a social place that he can go on, like on a computer for example, and find people around the world, with their pictures and contact information." They drank in silence for a minute. "It's just for drinks," he said. "You know Chris is in NYU now?"

"Yeah, through no help of our own," Peggy said. " Have you told Trudy yet?"  
>"With the chemo, I didn't want to upset her," Pete said." I mean she knows about it in general, but not that he tried to contact us."<br>"Then, I can't believe that you're on board with this," Peggy said.  
>"I'm not," Pete said with the same-old defiance. "I'm sure that he is interested in some sort of financial gain. The best thing that we can do is nip it in the bud."<p>

Peggy gave him a look, the one that he was familiar with. The look that said that she recognized bullshit when she heard it. He sighed. "Alright, I've been doing a lot of thinking especially now with Trudy and Don-"  
>"You do want to meet with him," Peggy guessed.<br>"You know Peggy," Pete said. "Whenever we talk about it, you never refer to him by his name, it's Chris-"  
>"-Richardson," Peggy reminded him. "Chris Richardson, not Olson not Campbell. He isn't a part of us."<p>

"Maybe he doesn't want to be," Pete suggested. "Maybe he just wants to see where he came from."  
>"It's a door that closed long ago," Peggy replied. "I don't want to open it again."<br>"But it never shut,"Pete replied. "It's open just a crack and it will never shut if we don't face it. Chris is a part of us that we need to face."  
>"But we have to move forward," Peggy reminded him.<br>"Sometimes you have to go backwards to go forward," Pete said.

Peggy drank again. "We have that trip to London and I'll think about it. When we get back, I'll give you a decision but it's a final one. No talking me around, no guilt. If it turns out that you have to meet Chris alone then you do it." Pete sat in silence and deep thought but he nodded.

Peggy's thoughts returned to the present and the sputtering car. "No, no," Peggy cursed under her breath. "Please don't, please don't." She begged. Despite her earnest pleas, the car stopped and died on the side of the road. The woman grunted and exited her vehicle. Peggy opened the hood and looked inside.

"Help you miss?" a male voice interrupted her. Peggy turned to see a tall young man with fair hair cut in an odd way. He was dressed in a camouflage jacket which didn't even come down to his hips, he was so tall.

"If you're a mechanic," Peggy said. The man looked closely at the engine as if in deep thought. He cupped his chin in his hand and stared closely at the machine.

"Ah I see the problem," he said turning towards her. Peggy waited in mock-anticipation. "The car's dead."  
>"Really," Peggy said sarcastically. "I had no idea. Is there somewhere I can use a phone?" She wished for the 100th time that there could be a phone that people could carry around with them.<p>

"There's the Nag's Head," the young man suggested. "It's over-you know what hang about. I'll take you there."

"Thank you," Peggy said. She reached into her pocket book, but the man stayed her hand.

"No, miss, it's alright," he said. "Consider it a favor. Besides this is a dangerous area, a lady such as yourself don't want to be caught out here on your own."  
>Peggy smiled. Men were the same the world over. "I'm from Brooklyn, I think I can handle it." After all, you could take the girl out of Brooklyn but you couldn't- The man smiled and politely waved her to follow him.<p>

Peggy followed the man. Since his legs were so much longer than hers, he seemed to charge far ahead. It was a bit of a struggle to keep up with him. She stopped for a minute. Peggy could see a familiar looking vehicle, a bright yellow van. The color was somewhat dulled with age and there were three wheels. Peggy could see that there was writing on it, she was about to walk closer when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"We're there miss," the young man said as he opened the door and waved her inside. Peggy thanked him and followed him into a pub. Peggy entered and walked past two men, one with a long face like a horse and the other with a dark mustache. Horse Face said something that Peggy couldn't understand but Mustache opened his mouth and let out the most unusual laugh that she ever heard. The young man pointed to the phone in the door. Peggy said her thanks, ordered a lager from the woman at the bar, then dialed a few numbers.

First she dialed the car rental to send for a tow truck. The dispatch said that they were very sorry and that they would send a vehicle as soon as possible. "We endeavour to give satisfaction and hope that you shall do business with us again."  
>"We'll see about that," Peggy tried to be polite but was seriously thinking, Fat chance pal!<p>

She then dialed Pete's hotel room. "Peggy," he said. " I was just about to leave."  
>"I'm sorry, Pete," Peggy said. "But it looks like I might be late." As she spoke, she paid for and sipped on the lager as she explained the situation. "Could you hold them off for a few minutes and tell them I'm on my way?"<br>"And what am I supposed to hold them off with?" Pete asked sarcastically. "You have the presentation."  
>"I don't know, "Peggy added as she drank. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the tall gangly young man making forward motions and talking to himself as though he were trying to psych himself up. "They're music and broadcasting executives, I'm sure that you'll think of something."<p>

"Teriffic," Pete glowered. "How long do you think you're going to be?"  
>"I'll see you as soon as I can," she said. "I'll meet you at their building."<br>"Alright, I'll see you then," Pete said doubtfully. "Until then, I'm gonna get a good stiff drink in the hotel bar."  
>"I'm on top of that," Peggy agreed as she drank herself. She promised to be there as soon as she could and hung up waiting for the truck.<p>

She wandered to an empty seat right behind Horse Face and Mustache who were still caught up in their conversation. The young man who accompanied her, strode towards her. "So you get it all taken care of, miss?"  
>He asked.<br>"Yes, a tow truck will be arriving in about fifteen to thirty minutes," she said. "Ah good good," the young man said. Peggy noticed that he shifted nervously never knowing what to do with his hands. He constantly put one hand in his pocket. "So umm miss, would you like me to buy you a drink or something?" Peggy motioned at the drink in her hand.

"Ah you have one." He said. "You come prepared." Peggy bit her lip to keep from laughing at the young man's awkward shyness.

He ordered a half lager as the two other men looked up. "Hello Rodney," Mustache called.

"Hey Boycie," Rodney responded.  
>"How is it' been Dave?" the other man called.<p>

Rodney bristled with embarrassment but nodded. "Couldn't be better, Trigger."  
>"So which is your name, Rodney or Dave?" Peggy asked amused.<p>

"Rodney, well to everyone except Trigger," Rodney replied embarrassed again. "Didn't catch your name miss?"  
>"Well I'm Marg- uh Peggy Olson," Peggy replied extending her hand as Rodney shook it. A thought occured to her, after all she was in Peckham again and the boy did seem familiar. "Your last name wouldn't happen to be Trotter would it?"<p>

"Yeah that's right," Rodney replied uncertainly. Peggy smiled knowingly. "And you have a brother named, Del don't you?"  
>Rodney frowned. "Yeah, are you a police officer or just really good at this game?"<p>

Peggy's eyes widened, as she shook her head. She knew it! She couldn't believe that she was here in London after all this time and she happened to see Rodney Trotter again. After all she had only remembered seeing him way back in '66 and he was a small boy then who had been kidnapped. Peggy just happened to see him with his kidnappers and dialed Del's number telling him where they were and who Rodney was with. Several different emotions ran through her nostalgia, mixed with sadness, and a feeling of eerieness about that time. Of course, her awkward conversation with Pete at Don's reception was mixed in and she knew why: seeing Rodney that day reminded her of the boy she had to give up. Chris, she remembered, his name is Chris.

"You alright, Miss Olson?" Rodney asked. "Yes I'm fine," Peggy said. "Let's just say that I met your brother a long time ago."  
>"Oh well he's right outside if you want to see him selling souveniers for the upcoming wedding." Peggy nodded knowing of the whole media celebrity circus surrounding the engagement of Prince Charles and Lady Diana Spencer. "I'll take you out to meet him if you like," Rodney offered. Peggy looked down at her watch.<p>

"Well sure I have some time to kill," Peggy replied. She stood with Rodney as the two finished their drinks and headed outside.

Rodney led the American woman to the stand where a man stood to a crowd. He was dressed in flashy red turtleneck and gray suit and wore gold jewelry. Peggy walked closer to him to get a closer look. Even though the man was older, she could still see traces of the Derek Trotter that she remembered, his charming smile, his expressive hand gestures, constant moving about, were all familiar to her now in a man in his mid-thirties rather than a young man in his late teens or early twenties. True his hair line had receded and there were lines on his face that came less from age than from undeniable hardship, and somehow to Peggy he seemed to have gotten smaller over the years, but she could still recognize the charming Englishman that she knew all those years ago. He held up what appeared to be two sock puppets, one with blond yarn and the other with very large ears.

"Yes here we have right here, souveniers just in time for the big day. You want to entertain your kiddies and tell them of the day when true love entered Buck House, well here's your chance two lovely dollies for the little 'uns." As he held up the female doll which Peggy assumed was supposed to be Lady Diana, the doll's hair fell off. Del laughed sheepishly. "Of course you could mix and match, change her to fit any needs. A future princess for your little princess."

He then held up an Etch-A-Sketch with the image of the Royal Couple sketched on it. "Now this here is a one-of-a kind gift that you can only get here, this was drawn by a very consummate and talented artist who spent days on it practically made himself blind to catch the intricate details of the lovely couple." He held up the Etch-A-Sketch accidentally shaking it and the picture came apart. Some of the spectators groaned. Peggy shook her head stifling a laugh. Rodney just shook his head and rolled his eyes, but he smiled as if to say "how typical." Del however was not daunted.

"What we have here is a slightly used Etch-A-Sketch, quite an imprerssive tool for any budding young artist, isn't it?" The crowd laughed at the recovery. Del then motioned a woman over and showed her a tea pot with the Windsor seal on it. "How about you Miss genuine Royal Albert Fine China, made right here in England and hand painted for the Big Day."

The woman looked closely at the tea pot. "If it was made in England, why does it say 'Made in China' on it?"  
>Del gave an embarrassed laugh. " 'Cause it's made of Fine China isn't it?" Some of the crowd separated. Del accepted a few coins from different items, but not that many. He called the people back. "Alright well thank you then, see you around. Charming, Thank you miss. No trouble sir. Nice day to you. Thank you good-bye, good-bye."<p>

Rodney and Peggy waited until the crowd had dissolved before they approached the market trader. Rodney groaned. "I told you that stuff wouldn't work, Del."  
>"Alright, Rodders, alright," Del said. "Still a few more days until the wedding. You know you have been back from Basingstoke for not even a fortnight and alright you're getting on me last nerve. Sometimes, I think I should have left you in the drug cell with the real hardened dealers so you can be their special little mate."<br>Rodney blushed embarrassed and put his hand back in his pocket. "Del," he said. Peggy didn't say anything instead smiled wryly.

Del turned to the woman as if seeing her for the first time. "You interested in something miss? I mean you can't possibly be interested in this wally brain here." He pointed at Rodney who sputtered with humiliation.

Peggy shook her head and laughed. "Well obviously you two found each other." She said poiting at the two.  
>Del looked at her slightly confused but then closely as if studying her. "You're American. Don't know too many of them . Have we met before?"<br>"I should say so," Peggy said. She then took out her business card.  
>Del took it and read. "Margaret Olson, Creative Director Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce; You know Margaret is my most absolute favorite name-" He then read again and his eyes widened in recognition. "Peggy? Peggy Olson!"<p>

"Yeah," Peggy said. "It's good to see you again, Del."

"You too, Little Red Riding Hood," Del greeted as he shook her hand rather warmly. Peggy rolled her eyes at the familiar nickname that he once gave her and looked down at her dark red blazer and business pants covering her white top. I suppose it's still appropriate, she thought wryly.

"So you two old friends?" Rodney began dryly with more than a bit of curiosity.  
>"Oh right," Del said. "Rodney this here is Peggy Olson-"<br>"-Yeah we already met," Rodney said.

Del continued, "This young lady years ago, a total stranger mind you, took it upon herself to be a Good Centurion-"  
>"-Samaritan," Peggy corrected. Del looked at her confused. "I think you mean Good Samaritan."<br>Del dismissed her correction with a wave of his hand. Rodney shook his head knowingly. "Don't bother."  
>"Well Centurion, Samaritan, one of them 12 Disciples that Jesus hung about with," Del continued. "-Anyway, Peggy paid me an important favor years ago-one I owe a great thanks to."<br>"Why?" Rodney asked. "What did she do?"

Peggy opened her mouth, but closed it again upon seeing Del's stare and shake of his head.  
>She shrugged and flushed embarrassed. "Really, it was nothing. I was just in the right place at the right time."<br>"A lot more than nothing to me," Del said softly his voice more serious than it was before. He cleared his throat, but then continued. "Anyway, let's just say years ago Miss Olson here extended her hand in a very dark time and aided me when no one else did." Peggy shrugged again, but offered no comment feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable about his gratitude.  
>"What happened?" Rodney asked his curiosity piqued.<p>

"Dark days, bruv," Del said. "That's all I'm going to say on the subject, dark days."

The three people stood in an awkward silence when out of the corner of her eye, Peggy saw the tow truck pull up by the Nag's Head. "Oh I have to go, thanks again for your help, Rodney. It was nice meeting you!" She shook Rodney's hand and then Del's. "It was good seeing you again, Del." She then turned to leave, when Del called her up.  
>"Peggy, would it be the axiom of foolishness if I were to ask you out for a drink tonight?" He asked.<br>Peggy looked down at her watch. "Well I have a presentation and-" She wondered what he had in mind.

Del waved his hand. "No, I'll just be a true gentleman. Just a sociable drink among old friends. Think of it as a way of returning the favor, a long overdue thank you."

Peggy glanced over at the tow truck. "Alright, I'll meet you at the Nag's Head if that's alright, later this evening. Around 7:30?"  
>"About right to me," Del agreed. "I'll see you then mon petite chevre."<p>

Mentally, Peggy translated the French phrase-my little goat? She assumed, or rather hope that was a mistranslation, and he didn't mean anything by it. She laughed and they shook hands, again, this time he took it in his hand and kissed it. "I'll see you then, Del." She said.

She then entered the Nag's Head separating her thoughts of meeting the Trotter brothers and any other personal issues instead focusing on her meeting with these music and broadcasting executives. It was an interesting idea and presented a marketing challenge that she was looking forward to discussing it. After all, whoever heard of a 24 hour music television station?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: American Girl, Raised on Promises

Author's note: Robert Pittman was the real-life founder of MTV and Chris Blackwell was the president of Island Records. These portrayals are meant to be fictionalized representations and are not meant to express their real nature or personalities. While many of the facts revealed in this story are based on what really happened in MTV's creation, some of them have been played around with or altered for the course of my story.

Peggy walked into the office as she saw Pete talking to a young fair-haired executive, Josh Bryant. She took out a cigarette and began lighting when she felt a tap on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry Miss, but you can't smoke here," the man said. he pointed to the No Smoking sign. "You can only smoke outside."

"Oh sorry," Peggy said as she replaced the cigarette back in her handbag.

She walked closer as Pete was speaking to Josh. Josh was young, handsome, and brash with a big mouth and a big ego like so many others before him including the older man who was giving him a stern talking to.

"Keep up this behavior and you will never have my job," Pete lectured Josh close to him at eye level in a just between us guys talk. "You'll never run this firm. You will die in that corner office: a mid-level account executive with a little bit of hair who women go home with out of pity. And do you know why? No one will like you."

Josh nodded, obviously fighting off the dressing down. He then walked away as Peggy moved closer to her colleague. "Trouble with the new kid?" Peggy asked wryly.

"Again," Pete snorted. "You think having a degree in Business Administration from Boston would have taught him some behavior but no he's an idiot. He makes some moves on a secretary that even I would have been ashamed of. I'm glad I was never like that."

"It's a good speech you gave him," Peggy said wryly. "Did you tell him how you learned it?"

Pete cleared his throat obviously embarrassed. "Uh, do you have the presentation?" She held up the portfolio. "Ready to go. I'm sorry for my lateness."  
>"I just got here myself," Pete replied as the two of them entered the elevator.<p>

They opened the doorway to see two people, one was a short man with receding dark hair but a clearly youthful expression and glasses. "Mr. Campbell, we spoke on the phone. I'm Robert Pittman. I'm curious to see your ideas about my network."

Pete grinned. "Thank you, Mr. Pittman. But Ms. Olson is the one who comes up with the creative strategies. I'm just here to convince you that they're good."

Mr. Pittman stammered uncomfortably for a minute but shook Peggy's hand. "I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Olson forgive my manners. I suppose that I've been speaking to so many musicians for so long, I'm starting to think like one."

Peggy laughed and brushed off the mistake. "That's alright, Mr. Pittman, I'm just enjoying working with you."  
>He nodded. "And I want to express my condolences over the loss of Mr. Draper, he was a legend in advertising."<br>"Yes, he was a fine man to work with and he will truly be missed, "Peggy said in a polite manner but knowing those words could not do justice to Don, not in a million years. No words could.

Mr. Pittman pointed at the man by his side, an older man who looked skeptical but had a vague expression. "This is Chris Blackwell, he is the executive from Island Records." Peggy and Pete shook Mr. Blackwell's hand as they prepared their presentation. "We've called this meeting, because we've hit a snag," Pittman replied staring pointedly at Blackwell.  
>Blackwell snorted. "Many of my musicians are not yet sure that they want to put themselves on television. The whole point is for people to hear the music and let it slip inside them, let it fill them not to have manufactured images."<p>

Pete held up a document. "Mr. Blackwell according to these reports sales have increased because of the more visible exposure that these artists have already done here in Europe by creating these music videos. Take Queen for instance." He flipped the pages to show the executives. "Sales of their albums have increased both here and in other countries, United States for example. My children bought their album, The Game, specifically because they enjoyed their videos to "Another One Bites The Dust" and "Under Pressure." "

Peggy bit her lip to keep from smiling at how Pete was acting proud of this achievement when she seemed to recall him saying that if he ever heard the opening beat to "Another One Bites the Dust" again then he was going to throw out the album and the record player that his kids played it on.

Mr. Blackwell nodded. "While that may be true, many of my artists are concerned with what visuals will do to the music, whether they will pervert them or enhance them."  
>"Well we have to change that perception then don't we?" Pete said turning over to Peggy as though it were her cue.<p>

Peggy picked up the portfolio and held up the drawing that the young woman from the art department did. She turned it around so they couldn't see the outline. "The whole point isn't whether we could consider videos as a replacement for music, they're not. It's whether music can adapt to this new world. What you have here could change everything, could change the face of music, could change the face of television. No one wants to be left behind in the face of immense change. It's just like-" She turned the picture around to reveal an astronaut on the moon. "-Man walking on the moon."

Pittman looked confused. "How do you mean, Ms. Olson?"

"For television, Music Television is going to be a new frontier, it's going to require new technologies, new experiences from their audience, young people will not only watching but could be participants, careers could be created," Peggy suggested.

"There may even be new technologies created just to enhance the storytelling of these videos alone, directors, artists, videos could even be animated. Instead of looking at videos as a separate entity from music, look at it as a new challenge as another way to share music. Perhaps, begin with a countdown and you see Neil Armstrong appearing on the moon reciting his 'One Small Step for Man, One Giant Leap for Mankind' line showing this to be the next achievement-"  
>"-If we can get permission to use Armstrong's face or likeness," Mr. Pittman said aloud noting the former astronaut's noted reclusiveness.<p>

"-Perhaps or the very idea of seeing an astronaut in space could give that impression," Peggy suggested. "We could hear some loud pulsating rock music and see various jump cuts to show the type of station this is going to be. Something loud, something fast, something energetic, something that will grab the attention of everyone who is watching. And a voice could say, 'Ladies and Gentlmen, Rock and Roll' like in the beginning of a concert."

Mr. Blackwell looked less skeptical but he nodded and Mr. Pittman was beaming. "Not bad," he said. "That's a sharp cookie you have there, Campbell." Inwardly Peggy bristled. "The only thing that I don't like is the flag." He pointed at it where the words "Music Television" were in the same font one word on top of the other.

"Why what's wrong with it?" Peggy asked.

"It's too long, the whole point as you mentioned is to grab the attention of the audience. It has to be as you described as 'fast, energetic, loud,' "Mr. Pittman suggested. "I have been toying with the idea of something shorter for the title."

Peggy thought for a minute. Video TV? No that was about the same length, besides some people thought of videos like those Beta videos that they can record. Vid-TV? Not quite. V-TV? Well she didn't want to alienate people who were expecting music. Hmm-  
>"How about MTV?" Peggy suggested.<p>

"MTV: Music Television," Pittman said. "I like the sound of that. We need a good song to begin it with something that epitomizes the whole idea."  
>"One of my groups had a song like that a year or so ago," Mr. Blackwell said . "Trevor Horn's group released a song, about the demise of radio stars because of video. It would make a good ironic comment. "<p>

"If this works we will never look at music the same way again, "Peggy observed.

"I certainly hope you're right, Ms. Olson," Mr. Pittman said.

"And I'm afraid you will be," Mr. Blackwell grumbled. The two men led the two ad execs out of the room.

Pete and Peggy waited until they were outside the building before they clasped hands in jubilation. "We did it!" Pete said.

Peggy grinned, but then her expression dropped. "Yeah you and your sharp cookie," Peggy said flatly.

"I told you that you shouldn't have accepted that profile from that fledgling publication," Pete said dryly. "That you were going to linked with those feminists."

Peggy shook her head. The two have had this conversation many times, so much that it became a joke to them. Well, sort of. "For the last time,_ Ms_., is not a fledgling publication. It is a well respected magazine for women."  
>"Last time I checked, <em>Ladies Home Journal<em> is that too, but I don't recall you accepting anyinterviews from them ," Pete countered

"I meant for women who are fighting for positions in the workplace and equal rights," Peggy continued.

"You have the vote, what more do you need?" Pete asked. "Pete sometimes I wonder how Trudy puts up with you," Peggy teased.

"Sometimes I wonder that too," Pete said with more seriousness than he intended. He shook off the sentiment and pointed at the building referring to the two executives inside. "Anyway what can you expect when you allied yourself with those type of women? You get a reputation. Don't presume that you speak for all women. Not all women want this Equal Rights thing to pass, Trudy in particular."

"Does Tammy?" Peggy asked. Pete shrugged knowing that his daughter was a rebel at Columbia University, studying political science. "Anyway, we don't want to speak for all women, just to be sure that they have a choice in what they do in their lives and with their bodies and that they have the same rights and priviliges as men."  
>"Anyway, my point is, things have changed, Peggy," Pete said. " There's no need for women to be so...militant. You are a Creative Director, now. No woman would have ever had that position when we began. We have several women on staff including Lila, remember our Director in the Art Department. Stuff like that doesn't matter, anymore."<p>

Peggy stopped. "Pete, it does matter. People look at you and they see an Accounts Director, they see what you do, how you contribute. They look at me and they see a woman, how I look and how I dress. They don't see anything, until I dazzle them with ideas. You get interviews from _Advertising Age_ or _Forbes_. The best interview I received was from _Ms_. You lose your temper and people say how typical that is of a male executive, I lose my temper and I get labeled a bitch. I still occasionally hear the jokes about who I'm sleeping with and what I did to get this position. Things haven't changed that much, Pete. It does matter."

She shrugged letting those feelings roll off her. "Well they loved our ideas and we got the account, that's what's important for now."

"That's right," Pete agreed, the conversation forgotten. "Wanna have a celebratory drink at an English pub?"

Peggy was about to accept when she looked at her watch. "No thanks, I have plans tonight."  
>"Trying to get a call to that boyfriend of yours?" Pete asked. "What's his name, Glen, Grant?"<p>

"Close," Peggy said dryly. "Try Gary. Anyway, it's hard to get in touch with him when he's on research leave."

"Yeah studying the behaviors of mammals in the middle of Africa," Pete chided.

"He's in Asia now, New Guinea, I think," Peggy replied.

"What do you see in him?" Pete said. "He's arrogant, conceited, has a big mouth."

Peggy shook her head. "In other words, he's a perfect Pete Campbell." Pete winced, but he couldn't argue with the truth of that statement that the reason that he and Peggy's current boyfriend, Gary Okada, animal researcher, didn't get along was because they were too much alike in temperment and personality. The first time that they met Pete told Gary that he "didn't fit the stereotype of a Japanese-American, quiet, reserved, keeps to themselves." Gary then countered with"Well you don't fit the stereotype of a white tightass." Their volatile and sniping relationship continued from there.

"The only reason that you don't like him is because you two give each other a hard time, you talk to each other and your conversations usually end up in some verbal version of a cock fight. He makes me laugh, he's sweet, and he is just as dedicated to his work as I am. There's no worries about where it's going.I don't have to worry about whether I'm going to be a wife to him. We don't concern ourselves with where it's going. It's hard to find a man like that. Anyway, it's not with him. I'm just catching up with an old friend for dinner."

Pete was confused. "What old friend?"

"An old friend," Peggy said in a tone that indicated the conversation was over as she left. Pete shrugged glancing at his watch and doing the math in his head of what time it would be in New York and whether he should call Trudy. Well may be one drink at a pub and then he will call her when he got back to the hotel.

Rodney reclined on the settee lazily glancing through the _Mayfair_ magazine, keeping an eye on his brother as Del combed his hair and glanced at his reflection through the mirror. "Going out with Miss Piggy then are you?" Rodney asked dryly.

Del rolled his eyes. He knew his younger brother was just winding him up. "_Peggy_ and I are going out for a sociable drink among old friends." Maybe friends in the beginning, but afterwards who knew? " Just catching up with each other. After all, we are both in the business of selling things. We share a great deal in common."

"Yeah an American Creative Director of a multinational advertising agency and a hooky Market Trader from Peckham. Worlds that connect there," Rodney sarcastically replied. "You will have lots to talk about."

"Never could stand them bloody Yanks, excepting for their television shows," Grandad replied keeping his eyes on the two TV's but listening to his grandsons. "The way they came here after the war acting like they owned the bloody place, with their "Yee-haws" and "Howdy y'alls" asking where Buckingham Palace was."

"And the way they fought over slavery must have been a real brawl there huh, Granddad?" Rodney teased. Granddad fixed his younger grandson with a sneer. Rodney put down his magazine looking closely at Del. "Del, how do you know her?" His voice was more curious and sounded younger than his years. "Is she an ex-fiancee?"

"No," Del replied straightening his tie."As I said earlier, she helped me when I really needed it."

"Helped you with what?" Rodney asked. "Did she loan you money?"

Del sniffed. "Hardly, back then she was probably as skint as I was. It was dark days, bruv and that's all I will say on it." He spoke in a determined voice that used to warn Rodney when certain conversations were over. He looked over at Granddad with a stare that clearly said, 'Say nothing!'

Del glanced at his own reflection in the mirror and his brother out of the corner of his eye. There were certain things that he can never tell Rodney about their past. Oh he could embellish and lie his way out of any conversation between them but some things were best kept inside his chest and not shared with Rodney. For example many of the things he did to earn a few bob; Things that he wasn't proud of and would never want Rodney to hear about or emulate, or dealings with figures that were best left in the past. There were secrets that should never be reopened or remembered.

"It was a long time ago," Granddad said. "Why concern yourself now, my son?" He gave a wordless nod to Del as though his lips were sealed.

" 'Cause I'm curious," Rodney said. "About what you're up to with her."

"More like just winding me up," Del said. Rodney shrugged as though that were true as well. Del continued to speak about Peggy. "She just provided an important service for me."

"Well there isn't any need to be so secretive Del," Rodney asked. "You make her sound like she was some sort of femme fatale."

"Well she didn't try to kill me if that's what you're asking!", Del snapped.

"What?" Rodney asked. "I didn't mean that, you plonker! Like a lady of the evening, a prosti- Oh!" It dawned on him. "I get it now!"

Del tried to cover his nerves. "Do you now?"

Rodney nodded. "I see! She's the one who popped your cherry!"

Del was shocked."I'd like to think that I was younger than 21 when I became a man!" He winced realizing that he had revealed more than he intended to.

Rodney did the math really quickly in his head and Del cursed the GCE he earned in the subject! "21, when you met her that was 1966, what happened in -?" Then a thought hit him "Oh my God." Suddenly, his face blanched as the truth dawned on him. "Freddie."

Del and Granddad glanced at each other warily as Rodney sank down. His posture sagged and his lips trembled. In Del's mind, his kid brother instantly transformed from the tall young man in his early twenties trying to exude confidence to a frightened child of six fearing the monsters in the closet and under the bed-only in his case the monsters were real: fathers who get violent after more than a few drinks, fathers who could take a child from his family and manipulate him to the point of helplessness. The type of monsters that did not appear if you didn't talk about them, instead were hidden away only to be brought by out as an occasional nightmare after the fact or cautionary tale. ("I don't want to be nothing like him, and don't you be either.") "I told you that I didn't want to talk about it," Del said hoarse not wanting to look at his little brother.

The two brothers were silent for a minute, the only sound that could be heard was the noise on the TV that Granddad was pretending to watch, but was clearly wanting to give the drama at home more of a listen. "Did she work with Freddie?" Rodney asked. "I only remember the other man with him, Jelly."

Del shook his head. "No, you were with them and she alerted me. If she hadn't, you would have been-" Del choked not wanting to let the real emotion come out. He brushed it off. "Well I'm off, don't wait up!" He grabbed his camel hair coat and wrapped it around himself.

Del was about to leavewhen Rodney called him. "Del?" Del turned around to see his brother. "When you see her, tell her thanks from me."  
>Del smiled. "I will cheers, Rodders. Night Granddad!" He said as the door slammed behind him finishing the conversation for good.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: We Will Get By, We Will Survive

Del Boy looked around the Nag's Head for Peggy. "Oi, Joyce," he called out to the older woman behind the bar."Give me a drink for luck?"

"Sure Del Boy, the usual?" she asked.

"As long as it's served by your lovely hands, I'll take anything," Del replied. Joycie laughed as she handed him the drink.

"By the way, I'm looking for someone. She probably was asking about me?"

"American, name of Peggy?" Joycie asked. Del nodded. "She's right behind you."

Del turned around to see the American woman. Peggy was dressed in a ribbed silk white blouse with shoulder pads and solid black knee length skirt. Her hair was brushed off her face so white round earrings showed. Del looked down at his clothes dressed in his dark suit and red shirt. They definately looked like a couple stepping out. "You're late," she teased looking at her watch.

"You look absolutely marvelous, a diamond," Del said handing her a flower that he bought from a nearby stall.

Peggy accepted the flower and smiled. He could certainly turn on the charm. "I'll allow it," she said. The two joined hands and walked out of the bar.

The two sat in a fancy restaraunt, near the west. Peggy ordered a martini cocktail and Del a Caribbean Stallion (giving the waiter specific instructions on how to make it.) "You look wonderful, Del," Peggy said as they received their drinks.

"Yeah well the John Lennon hair and the Hush Puppies can only look good for so long before they get dated," Del said. " 'Sides someone once told me to reinvent myself first, if I want to reinvent how people see my product. You don't never forget wisdom like that."

"More Don Draper wisdom," Peggy said wryly. "Useful in two countries." Her face fell.

"Something wrong Peggy?" Del asked.

"No, it's-" Peggy began. "Don passed away almost two weeks ago."

"Oh," Del said seriously. "I don't know what to say, I'm sorry. You worked together long."

"21 years," Peggy replied. "It's hard to imagine walking down the hallways, inside the conference room, expecting him to be there and he isn't. Like you could turn a corner and expect to see his shadow or his ghost."

"It sounds like he were more than just a co-worker to you," Del said.

Peggy shook her head. "He wasn't-We were never romantically involved. He was a mentor to me. He was among the first people to recognize what I could do. I mean he could be really demanding, he certainly wasn't shy about giving criticisms. And let's put it this way, there was a long line of women attending his funeral, probably having more than a good cry at his expense, maybe a few slaps at him dead or alive."

"Regular lady's man, right?" Del asked.

"To say the least," Peggy answered. "But I don't know where I'd be today if it weren't for him."

"Sounds like he was a father to you," Del observed. Peggy nodded and took out a cigarette ready to light it. Del then stuck out his lighter. He gave a gesture asking if he could light it. When she nodded, he lit the cigarette for her. "I'm trying to quit," Peggy said. "Not doing a good job of it, obviously." Her eyes misted over, but she cleared her throat. "It really is good to see you. Rodney looks very well."

"Yeah he's a diamond," he said. "He has GCSE's in Art and Maths."

Peggy nodded understanding the reference through study and research. "You must be proud," Peggy replied. "He's very lucky to have someone like you. I'm glad that you did find him and he came back to you."

"I'm just glad you saw him," Del said.

Peggy stammered. "Really, you're being too flattering. All I did was interpret the situation and make a phone call. You did everything else. Anyone else would have done what I did."

"No one else did," Del replied. "You got one of those fliers that me and my mates made. We passed out hundreds and probably got less than five calls, none of them even came close. I don't know what would have happened to him or to myself if you didn't see him." He took his drink and lit his cigar. "Do you mind?" Peggy shook her head. "I guess I'm not very good at trying to quit, myself. Not that I ever tried." He continued to smoke. "The way Rodney is, there were times that I told myself that if I ever saw you again that I would thank you from the bottom of my heart. Then, there were other times that if I ever saw you again, I would tell you 'mind your own business, you meddling cow!' "

Peggy started, but upon Del's wink, she laughed. "Well nice to know that I did something right." She smiled. "Anyway, if I remember correctly, he was with your father. If you'll forgive me, the way that he was with him frightened me."

Del shook his head. "He weren't my father," Del replied. "Nor Rodney's." He said those last words in a determined way that Peggy recognized in a lifetime of advertising. It was a line, something that he said to convince himself until he believed it. When he did believe it, no arguments, no counter examples would convince him otherwise. "He was just some sad bloke who fancied my mum and kidnapped my brother as a personal trophy."

Peggy nodded. "Were you alone then-?"

"You mean romantically or family-wise?" Del translated. "Well sort of. Our mum died when Rodney was just a little nipper and _our_ father-" he emphasized the our. "-packed his bags and took off."

"I'm sorry," Peggy said sympathetically. "So it was just the two of you. It must have been hard raising him by yourself."

Del shrugged. "Well it was us and our loopy old Granddad," Del said. "Right old 'un."

"I know what that felt like," Peggy said. "My father died right in front of me, when I was 12. I had my mother for a long time, though she passed away six years ago, and my older sister. She's still alive though, I have five nieces and nephews."

"It's a feeling that never goes away does it, when your mum or dad dies and you're so young" Del said his voice slurred less from the drink than from the emotions that he was trying too hard to suppress. "One minute, your safe, secure, protected. The next, through no fault of your own, you have to make your way in the world and you aren't ready. Before you even know what the world really is like." Peggy nodded in agreement. Del smiled. "Five nieces and nephews eh? Christmas must be fun."

"Oh it can be, especially when they know that their aunt is in advertising," Peggy replied. "They always ask for first dibs on all the cool toys. My youngest two nieces want these hand-made dolls from Georgia that we are only starting to plan a campaign around."

"You should give me a tip on some of them," Del remarked. "The people 'round here will like anything from America."

Peggy smiled. "Why do I have a feeling that I shouldn't?"

"It will be for good double legal reasons," Del said. "Everyone wins. I give them a wonderful gift imported from America; Your agency becomes known in our area, and the kids receive fine American products." Peggy glanced at him with an arched eyebrow and very suspicious expression. "Alright if the bills get a hold of us, you're in the clear."

"That will be comforting," Peggy said sarcastically. "I don't think so."

"Can't blame a lad for trying," Del said. "You married then? Kids?"

"No," Peggy said in a short tone trying to close the subject. "You?"

"No, too shrewd for that game," Del replied. "So a boyfriend then? One who hopefully is not a muscle bound handsome man who would like to take a beating out of the man sitting across from you."

Peggy laughed. "Well I do have a boyfriend but he's a scientist on leave now. We met on an Animal Rights campaign that I was working on."

"Ah, handsome, genius, and large hearted," Del said. "Just so few of us in the world."

Peggy chuckled. "The thing is, where I come from women have two choices, get married and raise a family or have a career. When women have a career you're thought of as one of the guys and the more successful men become intimidated and men think of you as nothing more than a pretty face or a potential wife and if you don't qualify well-that's just too bad isn't it? I had a choice and I made it."

"All the way up I'd say," Del said admiringly. "So, Peggy Olson what does a Creative Director do?"

"Well I'm responsible for heading up advertising campaigns," she began. "I oversee what the copywriters and artists plan, give my input, and sometimes come up with something that people will hopefully see on television, print, or radio. Sometimes we get lucky. Mostly I just sit around all day making faces about what I like and I don't like."

"Look at me, I'm a creative director then," Del joked. "It sounds like a good life, making parts of that American Dream come true. Putting it all together. Putting the pizzazz on products and what people want in them."

"You make it sound sordid," Peggy replied as she smoked.

"No it's something for people like me to perspire to," Del replied. "You Americans chase your Dream so often, you don't even know what it looks like anymore. It changes every few years even months to you. Blokes like me see it, and we know that if we have even a little of it, even a piece then, that's enough. Listen, I don't know what it's like to be a woman in the type of job you have, but I do understand what it's like for people to tell you in one way or another, you don't belong here. For people to hear your accent and your voice but not listen to or care about a word you say. You can see their faces and almost hear them wonder 'is he trying to sell me something or is he trying to rob me,' for them to think that you can't possibly be worth much if you weren't born in the right street, or to the right family, or gone to the right schools. You just know that if you at least look the part and have an air about yourself, then at least for a few minutes people can see past that and see you. Then maybe they believe you and just maybe you are one of them in some way." He took a deep drink of the Stallion in thought. "Well one can still dream and hold their head up high at the end of the day, eh?" He held out his drink to toast and Peggy returned it.

"Funny fickle mistress fate, eh?" Del said.

"How do you mean?" Peggy asked.

"Well fate coincidence," Del said. "You just happened to walk down the street all those years ago and see a little boy that you only glimpsed for a bit, and know the situation right off. Then, years later you come down another street and see the same people. You feel like we're ruled by fate."

"I don't know about that," Peggy said. "It was a matter of being in the right place at the right time-" She took a deep breath. The memory of that day, seeing that woman that lead her to Rodney and now Chris. "Some people believe that there are no such things as coincidences, but-" Peggy hesitated. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Anything's possible," Del prompted.

"You'll laugh at this and I don't even know why I'm telling you this now," Peggy said.

Del broke out in hysterical laughter. "Oh, sorry continue."

Peggy shook her head sarcastically. "Sometimes I'm not even sure that I believe it myself that it wasn't a sort of dream or hallucination," she said. "Before I saw Rodney, I had been window shopping and a woman stood near me. She had snatched the pcoektbook from my purse."

Del started. "I just don't believe you," he said in mock surprise. "London folk are as honest as they come!"

"That wasn't the part that you won't believe," Peggy said. "Can I continue? Well, she sang this song that was a jingle that had been rejected. No one would have known about it but me and my colleagues."

So, she was a face in an advert," Del said trying to sound dismissive but he was curious and intrigued."Probably need money for a fix of some sort."

"Well she disappeared when I followed her and that's when I saw Rodney," she said. "Later I checked my purse and my pocketbook was in there as if it had never been taken. Do faces in adverts desperate for a fix magically return pocketbooks back to purses?"

During her speech, Peggy noticed that Del had paled. Something clearly troubled him. His hands were on his mouth. "What did she look like, this woman?"

"That's the part that's the foggiest after all this time," Peggy said. "In my mind she looks different; Sometimes she has red hair and is dressed all in pink; Sometimes she has long flowing golden hair and wearing a beaver skin coat. Sometimes I wonder if she was real, or some guardian angel. Sometimes, I wonder why I am remembering another woman so well after all these years. I mean, it could answer a few questions about why I'm so single if I'm thinking about another woman," She tried to make a joke of the last line but Del was silent. Peggy noticed that her friend's expression got more and more pale and when she mentioned 'the long flowing hair' and 'the beaver skin coat' he had mouthed the words with her, as if he wanted, no expected, to her to say them."Del, are you all right?"

"Yeah, right as always," Del said.

"Is there something about the woman?," she asked.

When Del spoke next his voice was hoarse almost haunted. "When she was young, her Mum and Dad died in the Blitz, so she were on her own practically. She told us that she used to do whatever it took to get by including stealing ladies' purses. 'Not something I'm proud of,' she would say to us, 'But it put food on the table.' After she fell for us, she worked part-time in the cinema and used to make herself look like the ladies on the screen."

"Who are you talking about?" Peggy asked confused.

Del took a drink and practically swallowed it whole. "My-my mum."

Peggy shook her head. "You said your mother died didn't she?"

Del nodded. "Yeah when I was 19."

"And you're saying that she appeared to me?" Peggy paled. " That's crazy! But-by any chance, was one of the women that she dressed up like, Ann Margaret?"She also practically swallowed her drink.

"Yeah, right before she took ill the cinema was showing-" Peggy repeated the name of the movie with him, "-_Bye Bye_ _Birdie_" Del nodded. "In fact it was probably the last film that she dressed up for before she resigned 'cause of her health."

"-We did an ad campaign around the opening scene to _Bye Bye Birdie_," Peggy nodded. "That was the jingle that she was singing, the one that had been rejected." Del and Peggy sat in deep silence at the contemplation of this odd thought. Peggy thought. "Later, I think I had a dream that she was looking over you."

Del shrugged. "I have that dream a lot, sometimes I feel like apologizing."

"But why me," Peggy asked more to herself than to Del. "It could have been anyone else. It should have been anyone else. She should have come to you! You're her son! Why was I there? Why did she find me?"

"Because you know what it's like to wonder?" Del asked.

Peggy tried to hide her feelings. "What do you mean?"

"Peggy, I remember every minute, every second of those days," he said. "It sears into me like a nightmare that won't go away. I remember you rang me and I was rather short with you. I didn't know who you were with or what your game was but you told me that you know what it was like to wonder and wouldn't wish it on anyone else. I understood, somehow you suffered the same fate as me. Maybe that's why my mum came to you." Del suggested. "Maybe, she saw in you some of the things that I had been feeling." He was silent for a few moments. "How long was your kid missing? Did he ever come back to you?"

Peggy glared at him not wanting to speak. "I think that I'd better go," she said. She took money out. "This is for the drink. Thank you for the lovely time, Del." She walked out of the restaraunt with Del following close behind.

Del followed her to the check out where she picked up her coat. "Peggy, I'm sorry if I offended. Sometimes my tongue works faster than my brain." His hand brushed against her's. Peggy withdrew, but then accepted it. "It's none of my business. It was way out of turn. The night's still young and our's. If you like we could continue somewhere else."

Peggy looked down silent. She pulled out her cigarette pack and tapped at it. Maybe later, she thought trying to fight the urge to smoke for now. "Alright, let's go."

Del and Peggy waited as he revved the car. They drove through the London night drinking some more alcohol as rain began to drizzle. Far from the serious conversations that they had earlier, they laughed and joked about funny early memories like first jobs, (She talked about one of her first ad campaigns, the "Relaxiciser-a weight-loss belt with a stimulating quality for women") and previous relationships (He talked about being engaged two women using "fake diamond glass rings-needless to say neither led to the altar."). They smoked-"Oh well I can always try to quit tomorrow," Peggy quipped- and teased until the car sputtered and died.

"Bloody hell," Del cursed. He jumped out of the car to inspect the hood.

"Funny fickle mistress fate," Peggy repeated Del's words as she followed him. "Do you see the problem?"

"Very complex," Del grimaced. "We are out of petrol." He looked at his watch. "We can get some back over there, but it's a fair walk. You think you can wait here?"

"Hey, this date ain't over yet, Mister!"Peggy declared. Del laughed and waved her forward.

"Is this one of your worst dates?" Del asked.

Peggy smiled. "It has it's moments," she teased. As she walked, her foot slipped and her heel turned inward. She reached down and picked up her shoe. "Looks like I'll have to say a few words to Charles Jourdan about their new stiletto line."

"Not good for walking long strides on pavement?" Del suggested. "Useful for the nightime. Short walks, romance, moonlight strolls."

"Derek Trotter, you would make a wonderful ad executive," Peggy said. The two walked further near the petrol station when they heard a voice behind them and Peggy felt someone grab her by the arm and forcefully pull her towards him.

"Alright, mate," a man said in a rough Cockney accent. "Hand over your money and your old lady don't get hurt!" Another man grabbed Del forcefully by the arm and holding him at knifepoint

"Hey, I'm not old," Peggy said offended.

"Shut up bitch!" the man commanded. He pushed her towards him forcing his tongue down his throat. "I like an American tart!"

"And I hate to be called a bitch," Peggy said. Even though she had an extreme disadvantage wearing a skirt, and high heeled shoes, Peggy managed to raise her foot and give a forceful kick to the guy in the shin, one that she hoped her kickboxing instructor would have approved. "And my friend told me those self-defense classes wouldn't amount to anything," the man winced in pain and no doubt embarrassment of having been bested by a small woman. Peggy seized the advantage and gave him a forceful punch that she learned in class. "Take that Joan!" She said with irony towards her absent friend.

Del nodded admirably as the man dropped his grip in surprise on Del. The market trader then made a fist and hit the man on the cheek then gave him a good roundhouse punch in the nose. "You don't need self-defense classes where I'm from, just step outside every day of your life!"

The two robbers lay flat on the ground knocked out. Del and Peggy looked at each other and laughed as the adrenaline finished coursing through them. The clouds overhead burst as rain poured down. "Ah, damn," Del said but the two laughed again. Del pulled closer to Peggy and the two almost kissed when a police car slowed down.

"What's all this then?" the officer asked indicating the two out cold thieves. Del and Peggy started in surprise and then taking each other's hands and laughing wickedly, they ran from the officers further on the streets and into the rain.

Del and Peggy were still on high from their near escape and the rain when they returned to the car. The ground was sopping as Del filled the tank. Peggy still felt a bit tipsy from the martinis and the slippery sidewalk so she didn't notice until her foot turned in and she collided on the ground. Alarmed, Del knelt down. "You alright then?" he asked. "Just learn to walk?" He teased.

Peggy laughed hysterically. "Yeah, but my dress has seen better days." She said indicating the completely wet top and the now soiled skirt. Del returned the petrol can to the car and helped the woman to rise. Peggy looked down and noticed that her other shoe had also cracked it's heel in the fall. "There goes the other one," she said. She tried to step forward and fell over in pain. "I think I had too much to drink." She said.

"I'll say," Del agreed. "Give it here," motioning to her arm. He held her by the arm and shoulder, and helped her stand. Once again she moved forward but fell over in too much pain. "It may be broken, let's get you to hospital."

"No, I'll be fine," Peggy said as she pushed away from him and tried to walk on her own accord. Once again, she slipped. "On the other hand, a small cast never hurt anyone."

In the emergency room, the doctor had fitted Peggy for a large brace. However, since she was in a lot of pain the doctor gave her a perscription for oxycodone and warned her not to wear heels in the rain ("Like he needed to tell me that now," Peggy quipped to Del). The two returned from the hospital chemists as Del helped her in the car. Peggy's head was swimming from the painkiller as well as the alcohol from earlier. She felt like her inhibitions had slowly disappeared and felt very loose. She gripped her forehead.

"You alright then?" Del asked as the rain poured harder so he could barely see the other cars in front of him until he got closer.

"He wasn't kidnapped," Peggy said slowly. She felt her mouth say words that she tried to suppress, but she couldn't stop them. Maybe she didn't want to stop them.

"Beg your pardon," Del asked.

"Earlier at the restaurant you asked me how long was my kid missing," she said. "He wasn't kidnapped and he never came back."

"We don't have to talk about it," Del suggested.

Peggy shook her head, tears coming from her eyes. "I had just started working at Sterling Cooper and I met P-uh, one of the executives. He was charming, handsome, overwhelming. It all was overwhelming. He arrived at my apartment drunk and well-I suppose I don't need to describe further do I?" She laughed bitterly. "Working there I was going through a lot of changes, meeting new people, eating more, trying to be accepted, so when I started gaining weight-I didn't think much about it. I never learned about sex. My mother was a strong Catholic woman, she never told me any of that stuff. We didn't talk about that kind of thing at home. Everything that I learned from other girls at school were the urban legends that they had been told like you can't get pregnant your first time. I didn't even know until I was in the hospital and the doctor told me that I was going into labor. I was in pain, in complete shock, and afterwards, I couldn't even look at him. I didn't look at him. I was young, unmarried-"

"You gave him up," Del said. After all, he knew many girls that were in the same situation as Peggy. Many who gave up their kids for adoption, raised them as younger siblings, arranged for medical professionals to "take care of it," or the few who raised them on their own. Didn't one of his exes-June Snell who also hung around with his late friend, Albie Littlewood, have a hasty marriage? Her kid would have been a bit younger than Rodney. Del was certainly familiar of the consequences of an unwanted pregnancy. After all, unlike Peggy's sheltered upbringing, people in Peckham talked and were very blatant about what they talked about.

"My mother and sister arranged for his adoption and the State of New York finalized it," Peggy said wearily. "I didn't contest. I was in the hospital most of the time, barely knew where I was. He disappeared from my life, before I could even look at him and know that he was mine."She looked over to Del. "I guess that's why I almost envy you that you raised Rodney. You did for him what I wasn't able to do, what I couldn't do, for my-my son," She covered her mouth with her hands and tried to control her tears but she sobbed.

Del pulled the car over and undid his safety belt. He then gave Peggy a hug and whispered assurances to her. "Now, now, you did what you had to do," he said. "It's all in the past, you can't beat yourself out for what happened then."

Peggy shook her head. "It's not anymore. He found us. He's called me a few times. He even wrote me a letter. He wants to meet me-us his-father and I. I've been polite with him, but just formal no feeling, like a stranger. Of course I am a stranger to him aren't I? I'm not his mother.I'm not the one who read to him when he was little, the one who helped him make the monsters go away, or encouraged him in school. What you did for Rodney, I didn't do for him! Like I said, I had a choice and I made it. I have to move forward. It never happened, it-" She began to sob again and somehow Del felt that she wasn't using her words but quoting someone else's "-It shocks me how much it never happened."

"But it did happen," Del reminded her. "Do you want to meet him?"

"No," Peggy said too quickly. "Yes, I don't know. I suppose I do, but I can't!"

Del was silent for a minute. He didn't know what to say but he shrugged. "Maybe it's about time you stopped wondering," Peggy looked at him. "At least you'll be able to look at him." Peggy closed her eyes and winced. The anxiety draining away from her until all that left was the fatigue.

Peggy placed her hand on her face and glanced at her reflection through the rear-view mirror as if seeing herself for the first time. "Look at me, I'm a mess." She made a slight laugh in an attempt to change the subject. Her dress was stained and the brace had chaffed her leg. The tears had run across her face smearing her make-up and her hair was in disarray. "I guess you should take me back to the hotel."

Del nodded and started the car. He looked out the window at the rain and the traffic. He could barely see the traffic lights in front of him. "Ah, this bloody monsoon! At this rate we'll be at my place before we get to your hotel!" He glanced over at the American's direction."You want to? Granddad's out for the night and if this isn't one of those rare times in the millennium where Rodney's getting his leg over, he sleeps like the dead." Peggy offered a thin smile, but looked serious. Del, in what he considered a chivalric mood, decided the more gentlemanly course of action. "Nah, of course you wouldn't. You've been through enough tonight. I'll take you back."

"Del," Peggy said slowly. "I didn't say no, now did I?" Del smiled kindly and steered the van towards Nelson Mandela House.


	4. Chapter 4

Favor Returned

Chapter Four: In Your Wildest Dreams

Rodney ambled out of bed, still half-awake and coming down from the stoning binge that he and Mickey Pearce shared the night before. His head felt like it had been hit with a ton of bricks. He looked at the person wearing one of Del's shirts and seated on his chair. "Del," he said with a whining voice full aware that he sounded the same way when he was a kid. "Could you make me some coffee?"

"Well, I'll see what I can do, if you can tell me where the coffee maker is and the kitchen," a soft, but smoky and obviously female voice said.

Rodney turned towards the body seated on his brother's chair that was clearly not Del; his now focused mind could see that. It was an American woman with brown feathered hair dressed in one of Del's shirts and a long black skirt. When Rodney could manage to get a voice, he was about to ask what the woman was doing here when two answers became very clear. One was the leg brace that peered out from under the hem line of the skirt and the other reason was the entering Del, dressed in one of his silken bathrobes carrying a cigar and wearing an all-too pleased expression on his face.

"Oh so that's what you was doing last night," Rodney reasoned. "When I called the house eighteen times and got no answer!"

"Sorry, Rodders," Del replied. "Peggy and I was just catching up." He winked at the American in an obvious conspiracy.

Instead Rodney had pointed at his big brother accusing. "You have no idea how worried you made me! You could have at least picked up the phone to let me know that you were there! What if you were lying somewhere?"

"Bullocks," Del spat. "All you wanted was a ride home from Mickey Pearce's since he probably had too many of the funny fags as usual!"

Rodney dropped his self-righteous pose and at first was silent and getting caught with his real reason. "Yeah well," he sniffed. "As it is, I had to ride home with his Mum and you know how slow she drives! I think a hansom cab raced past us!"

Del waved his hand. "You see Peggy this is what you cursed me with, a lifetime of misery from this wally brain!"

Peggy tried to stifle her laughter but it came out short and desperate. As she laughed, her head ached from the overindulgence of alcohol from the night before. "Oh," she held her throbbing head.

"Here I'll get you two lay abouts some coffee," Del offered. "Seeing as how I'm the only one who is confident enough to find the kitchen."

"Did he mean competent?" Peggy asked Rodney.

"Yeah he did," Rodney agreed. Rodney took his grandfather's seat closer to the American woman as they could already smell the coffee bubbling. "So is Granddad not up yet?"

"Well your grandfather offered to take my dress to the dry cleaners," she gave the younger brother a brief sketch of the previous night's events. "He's really sweet, your grandfather, I refused but he kept insisting."

"Yeah he's all heart," Rodney said. He didn't want to tell Peggy that the real reason was that Granddad fancied a couple of the women who worked at the dry cleaners and was always making excuses to go there.

Rodney cleared his throat as though he wanted to make a formal declaration. He also Peggy noted with wry amusement that he was doing the same hand-in-pocket gesture from the day before. "So um, Miss Olson-"

"-Please call me Peggy," the American replied. He tried to retain a business like demeanor. "So you staying long, or I could give you a lift or something-"

"Actually I called a friend and he's coming to get me," she answered. "But thank you."

Rodney nodded trying to think of some other small talk, when that failed he reached the heart of the matter. "Peggy," Rodney answered. "Del told me what you did for him all those years ago and he doesn't show it but he is grateful and well so am I and-oh bloody hell just thanks."

Peggy smiled and reached over to place her hand on top of the younger man's. "You're welcome." She said.

"Alright," Del called from the kitchen. "Here's your coffee," he offered steaming mugs to the two as they drank. "So Peggy you doing anything tonight," he asked cheeky. "We could injure your other leg if you like."

Peggy laughed. "Thanks, but my flight leaves tonight." Del smiled thinly but she could see the disappointment in his eyes. "But I did enjoy last night, it was quite an adventure."

Del smiled. "Yeah for me too," He pulled her aside. "So you thought about what I said?"

Peggy looked confused. "What you said about what?"

"You know last night," Del reminded her. "About you and your-"Peggy continued to look blank. She remembered but now that she was sober, she was determined to keep her defenses. "Well surely I thought that it might have meant something-"

"Del, I was very drunk last night and on high from a painkiller that the doctor forced on me," Peggy reminded him. "I said a number of things that I don't remember. I would have told the cabbie everything." The Englishman's face looked long and sad but Peggy smiled warmly and she touched his shoulder. "But that didn't mean that what you said wasn't welcomed or appreciated." She leaned over to nearly give Del a kiss when the door opened to reveal a very unhappy Granddad.

"Del Boy, I ruined her dress," Granddad whined holding up a hanger and a dress that at one time was too fit an average sized woman. In disbelief, Peggy held onto the outfit now shrunk to the size of a small child's.

"You old plonker," Del taunted. "Can't you read dry cleaning instructions? They are about the same size as a bingo card!" He then turned to Peggy. "I'm really sorry about this Peggy." He then turned to his grandfather looking menacing. "I'm going to kill you!" He then turned back to Peggy his look once again chivalrous. "I'll pay for it if you like."

"That's alright, "Peggy answered. "What's done is done. Maybe one of those dolls will be the best dressed woman in Georgia." She laughed. "It's just the perfect ending for our affair to remember."

Del smirked. "Yeah but I don't think Cary Grant and Deborah Kerr had the exact problems that we did."

Peggy nodded agreeing. "Suppose you'll have to take the shirt-don't worry I have lots others-and the skirt then," Del answered. "Though how will I explain that a Lady Diana Spencer original is flying off to America?"

"Lady Diana what?" Peggy asked confused looking down at the skirt. "I think I'm going to regret asking this-"

"-These are genuine clothing worn by Lady Spencer so our customers will dress as beautiful as the future Princess of Wales," Del replied.

"They are reproductions that were nicked from a discount shop and purchased inside someone's Cadillac," Rodney translated.

"You know, I think I was better off not knowing," Peggy replied.

A knock at the door filled the room. "That will be Pete." Peggy answered. She was about to get up when Del held her down.

"I'll get it," he answered. He then approached the door to see Pete Campbell standing outside.

"Can I help you," Del asked.

"Yes I'm looking for Peggy Olson is she in here by any chance," Pete looked around the hallway and inside the room obviously hoping that she wasn't.

"Yeah she's inside," Del replied. "She's bound, been undressed, and seems ready to go home. I don't know what's wrong with her."

The American ad man's eyes widened. "You sick perverted-"

Del laughed. "Still on the stuffy side, I see," he answered. "Come on in." He waved.

Pete looked closely. "Have we met before?" But then he dismissed it as Del led him in the sitting room and he approached his co-worker.

Peggy rose stiffly trying to balance her weight on the well leg. "What happened to you?" he asked.

Peggy replied. "I'll tell you on the way over."

"Ready to go?" Pete asked.

Peggy nodded and turned to the family. She shook Granddad's hand. "I'm sorry again about the cock up Miss," the old man said politely.

"Don't worry about it," Peggy smiled. "I really don't like the shoulder pad look anyway. I look like an American football player about to score a touchdown." They both laughed and she turned to Rodney shaking his hand. "Good luck Rodney, you've grown up nicely" she whispered and then kissed him on the cheek. The younger man then blushed, stammered, and did his nervous gestures for a full minute.

"Thank you again Del," she said. "For everything."

"No thank you," Del answered. "For everything." The two looked at each other for an awkward moment, but then in full view of Granddad, Rodney, and Pete, they gave a warm and longing kiss.

Peggy turned to her co-worker as they left the flat and entered the lift. "So really what happened," Pete asked.

"It's a long story," Peggy answered as she began telling of the night's adventures.

Del stood by his stands, trying to get the crowd interested to no avail. His voice raised and dropped as people walked past very few stopping to take a look at his wares. This was not going to be a good day he could tell already.

"Come on, one of a kind original Lady Spencer wardrobe it will look great on your lovely figure as it does on-"but the women walked by. Del shook his head.

"No takers?" Rodney asked.

"No, maybe it's you," Del said. Rodney smirked but offered nothing but a non-verbal touch on the shoulder.

Del looked at his watch. It was almost closing time. If things didn't improve soon, the day was certainly going to be a bust. "Maybe we should pack it in," Rodney suggested.

"Have I ever ended before closing," Del asked shocked. "I'm not about to start now! Something will turn up!"

Rodney waved his hand forward. "What you think a crowd is all of a sudden going to appear wanting to buy your cheap wedding souvenirs and fake frocks-"

"-Oh my God," an enthusiastic middle aged woman approached the brothers' stand. "Are these for the wedding?" She asked in a Southern drawl. "These are exactly what I want to bring home! Marge, come over here!" She called her companion, over pointing out the souvenirs.

"Now the Page Three Mayfair models are going to appear and offer me a check for a million quid," Rodney waved his hand hoping for such a miracle. He snapped his fingers disappointed when none arrived.

"Now aren't these precious?" Marge asked as she picked up a puppet. "My little girl will just love these! How much?"

"About 75 quid a piece," Del said bemused.

"Oh that's a bit much-"the woman began.

"No worries," Del replied. "I can bring the price down to 60."

"Done," Marge agreed. They then called their other friends over. A gaggle of American tourists appeared in front of the small booth comparing the prices and items. The excitement was enough to send other people over to the Trotters to see what the commotion was about.

"Alright, alright one at a time," Del called as the crowd surrounded him. He accepted the money and handed the wares to the crowd. "I told you Rodders, people will buy this stuff!"

"Yeah but who told them?" Rodney asked.

"How should I know?" Del snapped. "Maybe fate finally dealt us a fair hand!"

Rodney glanced across the street and found their answer. "I think fate had a bit of help with that hand. Look." Del looked in the direction that Rodney was pointing and saw the original two American female tourists talking to another woman in a business outfit, her leg brace visible underneath her skirt. They leaned closer and it didn't take much imagination for either brother to see the woman slip money in the other two's hands.

Peggy finished paying the two women to act as shills when she met Del's eyes. The two smiled wistfully at each other. Del offered a wave which Peggy returned.

"I thought Don didn't approve of such shenanigans," Pete said remembering their late employer as he stood next to the businesswoman.

Peggy gave a half grin as she held out her Virginia Slims box. "You know something I learned on this trip, Pete? I'm not Don and I'm never going to be." She looked closely at the small box. Without wanting to think any further, Peggy threw the remaining cigarettes in the trash. "Are you still going to meet Chris when we get back?"

"Yeah," Pete replied. "I already told him that I would meet him for lunch."

Peggy took a deep breath. "Could you make reservations for three?" Pete looked confused. "I think it's about time I stopped wondering."

Pete smiled at his colleague and friend. "I thought you'd never ask." He said as they disappeared into the crowd and headed for their flight.

The End


End file.
